Barcelona Metropolis

To begin with, it is one of the few places you can go at night. Apart from that, which is silly, I think it has always made sense, in bad times too. It is a gathering in which you can have a collective experience with other people and are part of something that is happening here and now. The theatre’s here and now, which is so powerful, so soothing and necessary.

I couldn’t say one, but Chekhov is one such example of an author, on account of his characters always looking ahead to the future. However, as always when we are in the midst of a crisis, now Chekhov is recurring. That things are running out and are about to change... Since we have been living with this feeling for many years now, Chekhov has become very powerful. Like in Les tres germanes, which we just staged at the Lliure theatre. While I was doing it, I had the feeling it was a play for this time. The very scenographic approach, with the actors closed off behind glass, was prior to the pandemic. People told us that it was a “COVID” set design. Yes, all of a sudden I had the feeling that this play was powerful.

A family trapped in a bubble. I discussed it in depth with the set designer, Lluc Castells. And with Marc Artigau and Cristina Genebat, when making the adaptation. The bubble, the bubble... And now we are all stuck in a macro bubble.

We have to get out of here, start over, that’s possible... But they never set that in motion. Big projects escape from their clutches and they pass over them. They get trapped because of the little things: the teacher’s job, the “I’ve fallen for this guy”, the “I can’t stand my partner because I think he’s more of a simpleton every day”... Those little things that consume us.

I was an actor and I started directing, with La forma de les coses [The Shape of Things] and American Buffalo, which I remember fondly. It was Àlex who invited me to do them. And very cool things emerged, like 2666.

Yes... Money is an issue, but it is not the issue. Alex’s gaze was here, set on opening the Lliure theatre company to Europe and to the world.

I didn’t want to. I didn’t apply. It resonated more in the press than in the actual conversations that people linked to the Lliure had. At that time I didn’t dare. I considered it too big to take on: I had just started directing small-format shows and I thought I still had a long way to go. I also wanted to carry on acting. I didn’t feel ready. The Romea had another dimension, with a single, private theatre hall...

Now I feel more prepared than back then, yes.

I realised that I thought a lot about how I would do things if I directed the play I was taking part in. After a rehearsal or a performance, I would think about how I would have settled this or that scene; I challenged the decisions made by the director on duty. Until one day I said to myself: “Enough talk; if you think that things should be done differently, do them”.

They were works and authors with whom I felt a great connection. I started with others that were very actor-oriented. I was passionate about working on them and am still. These plays required and made in-depth work with the actors possible.

Neither one nor the other. I think I know both of them very well. Both highly talented, yet very different, each in their own world... But I think there’s a third way. You learn with people. This is a profession, as Mamet says in books like A Whore’s Profession, which we read in the nineties. He insists a great deal on that. The more time goes by, the more I realise that this is so, that it isn’t nonsense. Professions are based on the master-apprentice relationship. When you’re starting out, you should have your ears wide open, which doesn’t mean you should follow in their footsteps. The coolest thing is when the apprentice takes another path, which certainly features things from the teacher.

By not doing it, you lose your edge. Perhaps I am somewhat out of practice and you look at it from further away. Now I want to resume the tour of Una historia real [A True Story], written and directed by Pau Miró, precisely to take a risk, to assert a story. It suits me, for my health. I ask myself, “You have to put your helmet on and go out there”, because it’s like the front line of battle.

Yes... In Les tres germanes I couldn’t because there was a glass panel, and the actors appreciated that. I am one of those directors that touch the actors, get down beside them and perform with them. Always with a great deal of respect, but, sometimes, it is how you explain yourself, instead of looking for the words. That’s always an issue for the director: to find the right words. Peter Brook said that the most important thing is to know when to speak and when to be quiet. And it’s true. Sometimes you have to be quiet and let things happen. However, in other cases, you must step in.

I have great respect for the authors. I think about them a lot. You are going to collect an award and send thanks to the production, to the actors... And then you think: “We haven’t said anything about the author!” And you add: “Guys, we’ve started this, we have raised it off the ground, it has intrigued us... because of the story that someone wrote!” As I don’t have great confidence in myself, in writing, I like to adapt the texts of others. And I like to do it with a small team, with Marc and Cris. I like to work on it to turn a text that isn’t theatre into a play, or to update a classic play.

If you write poetry, it’s impossible. I love working in a team. I’ve always liked it. It may be one of the reasons why I work in the theatre profession. Much more is done on television, and also in film, where there are often two or three people who sign a script. Why not in the theatre? Why not break with the idea of the poet author? It’s a possibility: there are authors who are great poets, such as Koltès, Mouawad and Butterworth. In another dimension and in other types of works, collective writing is possible. It’s really enjoyable.

They are very good at telling stories. Yes, they can deconstruct them, contradict them, but everything stems from that: that they are very good at telling stories. And maybe it’s because they need it so much. Peter Brook said that the English are the best actors in the world. I don’t know if it’s true or if he really thinks it. But he talks about sentimentality when acting and how to handle emotions. He says that we Mediterranean people have them more in the foreground, that we dance with them. On the other hand, the English are so clumsy, they have so many issues in real life with their emotions, with so many inhibitions and so much bashfulness, that, when acting, they go off on tangents and end up making their performance interesting. Perhaps they have such a huge need to tell stories because their personal interaction is so shielded that it is through fiction that they ultimately understand themselves.

Because contemporary theatre speaks to me more directly. When I read any of these authors that we have discussed or others, I connect more easily. All this is now shifting, it may be because of my age. And I allow myself to read a classic as if it were contemporary. I have chosen contemporary texts because I like them more, especially as a director. And no, I haven’t done any Shakespeare. It’s a pending subject.

Loads: Hamlet, King Lear, Timon of Athens, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet... And every time, as an actor, I have been amazed. As a spectator I want to see contemporary theatre, but then I always think: “How great is it that a director has decided to put on a Shakespeare play and has suggested I star in it”. Instead, I open Shakespeare and think, “Which one would I stage? How would I do it? Maybe I would do Hamlet or King Lear... “. I always see a problem with the others, things that separate me from them. As an actor, putting that in your mouth is powerful. Suddenly, you get goose bumps when you realise that those lines you are reciting were written so long ago...

Time would have to go by without anyone staging it, because it is a play that is programmed regularly...

Oriol likes to do certain things again. He’s very free. Not long ago it was directed by Pau Carrió, but, nevertheless, if he wants to do something he does it.

La Brutal has taken on a paramount role in our small and vilified theatre scene. Its existence is important.

I hope to. I would like to, to keep getting into jams, to keep growing and to break out of the shell. You come out of one shell and get into another. It’s good to steadily break them... In our ecosystem, serious thought should be given to the fact that the things that are born here emerge from here. An effort must be made... I would love to go direct something abroad, with actors from abroad. The natural way would be to first stage something that you’ve done here, with your people. This may already have happened. All of them must be willing to do it. Now, things barely leave Catalonia. There aren’t even tours of Spain. Only a handful of productions with a very commercial profile. Public theatres don’t go anywhere. There are many plays that pass away too quickly.

They use a more exportable language, with exportable productions. But there should be the resolve to get local theatre companies out there.